


Sacrifices

by MidnightAshley



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightAshley/pseuds/MidnightAshley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas muses on life as he shaves his head.</p>
<p>Short fluffy one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifices

Solas rose with the dawn. It had become a habit since he woke from uthenara, years ago. Every day, no matter how long he slept, he would always rise with the sun. When he was younger he would never rise with the sun; he would sleep for years on end, journeying through the Fade to his heart’s content.

  
He sat up in his bed at Skyhold and stretched. His body had yet to become used to the luxury of sleeping in a warm bed after years of laying on threadbare bedrolls in ancient ruins and in the wild. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head, feeling his scalp with his hands as he lowered them. He could feel the stubble of his hair struggling to grow.

  
In his youth Solas had long thick hair, usually styled in dreads or whatever pleased him at the time. After he went into uthenara he lost every strand of hair on his body. Elves naturally had little hair but in uthenara the body goes into stasis so things like hair are lost. For Solas his hair, fat, muscle, etc. were all lost as the years went on.

  
Waking from uthenara was far worse than any nightmare he had the displeasure to encounter. He had been weak and struggled to move. His eyes opened to darkness, his hands reached out to nonexistent servants who should have been there to help him. The only thoughts he could muster were insatiable cravings for food and water. He was so vulnerable a demon would have easily won him over with an offer of water or a piece of bread. Never again would he allow himself to be in such a helpless situation.

  
The years after were spent gathering his strength and relearning things that once came naturally to him. Muscles refused to move with the grace of his youth and his magic was more volatile than in the Fade he had been living in. His hair had quickly regrown but he found it cumbersome. Several times he had accidentally lit it on fire while practicing spells.

  
Eventually he began shaving to get rid of his hair, even going so far as to create concoctions to forestall its regrowth for as long as possible. Occasionally he missed his long locks and thought about letting them grow out but he dismissed the thoughts as vanity. He had no time or room in his life to focus on petty, unnecessary things like long hair anymore. The loss of hair became another reminder of the past, of things he had to give up in order to further his goals.

  
Solas rose from the bed and went to his dresser. His room was very simple; there was a bed, wash basin, mirror, dresser, a few candles, and books littered throughout the room. He never bothered with decoration as he only ever used his room to sleep, change, occasionally read, and shave. Most of his time was either spent in his study at the bottom of the tower or out travelling with the Inquisitor.

  
He smiled briefly at the thought of his vhenan. Inquisitor Atisha Lavellan still baffled him, even after all the months they had been together. The First of her clan, sent to a Conclave only to survive an explosion and be marked with his own magic. The people of the Inquisition believed her to be blessed by Andraste herself, and sometimes he wondered if it was true. She had survived what would have certainly killed most having been saved by a strange spirit in the Fade. Who was he to say her survival was not a result of divine influence in the face of so many believers? He did not believe in gods, or what most believed to be gods, but the idea that some divine being watched over them was a charming notion. This was especially amusing considering he knew that Mythal, who the Dalish revered as a god, _did_ watch over and influence certain events in Thedas. She would never answer their prayers though, she had her own agenda in mind.

  
Before Solas met the inquisitor he was ashamed of the Dalish and how they acted. They remembered so little of the past, and what they did remember they had mutilated beyond recognition. The Dalish had even taken vallaslin, what was once forced upon slaves, and turned it into a source of _pride_ as they looked down upon their brethren in the cities.

  
Once he questioned if the Dalish were even worth helping. The inquisitor gave him hope that the People were not beyond help, that they could yet be redeemed. She showed kindness and wisdom he never suspected was possible from the Dalish, and her spirit was brighter than the sun itself. Solas quickly found himself caring for her and even falling in love with her as hard as he tried to stop himself. He knew someday it would have to end, if not for her sake then for his. If it had been in another time, _maybe_ -

  
He shook his head and focused on the task at hand. Dwelling on such thoughts would not help him. The last bit of cream he made to slow his hair growth lay in a jar on the dresser. He grabbed it along with his knife and went to his water basin. This ritual had become so familiar he felt he could have done it blind if the need arose. He filled the bowl with heated water, soaked a towel in it before wrapping it around his head for several minutes. Then he removed the towel and spread the concoction over his scalp, checking to make sure every spot was thoroughly covered.  
The smell was horrible but adding extra ingredients to the cream just to make the aroma more palatable seemed wasteful. He made his bed while the cream soaked into his scalp and worked as he created it to. After a few minutes of waiting he went back to the basin and began.

  
The knife glided smoothly across his head, taking the hair and cream with it. Solas watched the motions intently, focusing carefully on his reflection in the mirror. The last time he cut himself was over a year ago but he was still cautious lest he inadvertently harm himself again.

  
Someone gently knocked on the door after he made a few passes with his knife. His brow furrowed as he wondered who would be up at this hour and what they could possibly want with him. Many people around Skyhold were up at dawn but he expected they were busy with their own morning rituals. Rarely did anyone come to his room, and never at this hour. He grabbed a pair of trousers and pulled them on before answering the door.

  
“Vhenan,” Solas said warmly as soon as he saw the face of his Inquisitor.

  
“Emma lath,” Atisha replied, rising on her toes to kiss him. He met her lips with his own, raising his right hand to stroke her cheek as she pulled away. “Am I interrupting?”

He opened the door for her to come in. “Not at all.”

She entered, making a face and wrinkling her nose. “You smell… _interesting_.”

Solas closed the door behind her. “I would think after facing burning corpses and being covered in dragon’s blood _this_ ,” He said, signaling to his head, “would be refreshing,” He finished, smirking.

  
Atisha laughed dryly. “True this isn’t the _worst_ thing I’ve ever smelled, but I can’t say that makes it refreshing.” She held up a book she had been holding as she turned back to him. “I came to return this to you. Which precariously stacked pile should I add it to?”

  
Solas walked over to her and plucked the book from her hands before adding it to a stack of books next to his bed.

  
“I am surprised you are awake at this hour, let alone conscious enough to deliver a book,” Solas said as he looked her over. She was dressed and appeared tired. Usually when she was up at dawn it was at the demands of Cassandra as she pulled the Inquisitor from her tent and forced her awake to continue on their journeys. He wondered if she was having nightmares again. After surviving the Conclave explosion and destruction of Haven amongst other losses he had started giving her lavender oil and guarding her dreams so she would get rest. Lately he had been too preoccupied to watch over her dreams and mused over whether he should start again.

  
Atisha shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I had all these reports to do and thinking about them kept me up. Eventually I just gave up on sleep, got dressed, and went through a bunch of them. Josephine will be _so_ happy that I’m ahead of schedule,” She responded, picking at the knife on his dresser.

  
“Then the sun came up and I knew _you_ would be up so I thought I’d return the book before I forgot,” She added. She turned to him and stared at the cream left on his head. “I didn’t know you shaved.”  
Solas walked closer to her and looked in the mirror at himself. “I rarely do so. This cream I have created slows the growth of my hair, but unfortunately does not prevent it completely. Thus I, occasionally, I must shave. It is my burden to bear,” He finished with a dramatic sigh that ended in a smile.

  
Atisha smiled and shook her head. “I can’t imagine you with hair.”

  
Solas smirked as he picked up his knife and continued where he left off. “In my youth I had very long hair, longer than yours even.”

  
Her eyebrows shot up at that. Since the Conclave she had let her hair grow out, not even thinking about cutting it. Now the brown curls cascaded down to the bottom of her shoulder blades. Solas never commented on its length; after all she had never set her hair on fire and needed to cut it for her own safety. What she did with her hair was her business, but he liked how long it was. On a few afternoons when they were relaxing together he would enjoy running his hands through her curls as she leaned against him and he told her stories of ancient Arlathan or the Fade. It was a calming motion, one he could no longer do with his own hair.

  
“I would pay _anything_ to see your hair that long,” She laughed.

  
“Someday I may grow it out again and you shall see it, but not today,” Solas responded with another clean swipe of the knife. He moved to the back of his head, struggling to place the knife just so in order to not miss any spots.

  
“Do you need help?” She asked politely.

  
Solas stopped abruptly and looked at her strangely. He had always done this himself, always alone. Her presence was already odd enough for his ritual but her offer to help him threw him off guard.

  
“I…” Solas replied, unsure of how to respond.

  
“Here,” She said as she took the knife. She signaled for him to sit on the floor at the foot of his bed. She moved all of the supplies to the bed as he sat down cautiously.

  
“Have you ever done this before?” Solas asked. He heard her chuckle behind him as she sat on the bed. By sitting on the edge she had enough height to actually look down on him for once.

  
“A few times, but mostly to get hair out of the way of injuries I’m treating,” She responded as she maneuvered his head to where she wanted it.

  
The scrape of the knife sent shivers up his spine. It was nice to have someone shave his head so he did not have to manipulate the mirror and knife awkwardly in an effort to make sure he got every spot on the back of his head. On the other hand he had nothing to focus on or distract him. He was alert from her presence and on edge; he felt everything. The bed pressed against his back, the caress of her legs as they dangled off the bed and touched his arms, and the knife scraping against him; he felt it all. Not having total control over the knife and not being able to see her made him feel vulnerable. The vulnerability made the situation feel more intimate than he was used to.

  
He resorted to closing his eyes and focusing on breathing while she worked in silence.

  
Once Atisha finished she ran her fingers across his scalp, checking for missed spots. Solas visibly shivered at the feeling and she snickered.

  
She leaned down and held his head in her hands. “There, much better,” She said before kissing the top of his head.

  
He leaned back and she rested her head against his, a few strands of her hair falling to tickle his skin.

  
“Ma serannas,” He replied. His hands reached up to hers and she intertwined her fingers with his. They sat like that for a few moments in bliss filled silence.

  
“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know,” She said quietly.

  
Solas smiled sadly. He was used to doing everything by his self and knew that someday he would have to again, but for now Atisha was right. He did not look forward to the day when she would be wrong. Giving up his hair had been bad enough, but relinquishing his heart would be the greatest sacrifice he would yet make.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my headcanon on why Solas is bald, it makes it more meaningful I think.  
> Please review! Any feedback is appreciated.


End file.
